


Tidy

by rixsig-writes (rixsig)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Nonbinary Vanderwood, Other, mmrarepairweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 13:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11875443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rixsig/pseuds/rixsig-writes
Summary: Moving in with someone is a bit of an adjustment. Vanderwood was expecting that.But they weren't quite expecting this.





	Tidy

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 4 of mmrarepairweek!

There have been a lot of changes in Vanderwood’s life in the past couple years: leaving the agency, entering Jumin’s employ, having a permanent residence…

And this.

Vanderwood feels the water rise up their ankles as they rinse shampoo from their hair in the shower, and their eyebrows furrow. Is there a problem with the drain? They crouch down and prod at it until their fingers pull away with a clump of white hair, long and gleaming and definitely not theirs. Vanderwood pulls a disgusted face at it and pulls the curtain aside to fling it into the trash.

Living with Zen is the most recent change, and by far the hardest to get used to.

 

* * *

 

After they get dressed they go out to do some grocery shopping, just a quick stop at the local market to get some essentials like eggs and a couple of vegetables for dinner that night. Vanderwood feels incredibly out of place doing something so...horribly domestic. They don’t cook for other people. But Zen had arranged his schedule to make the beginning of the week open for the move which meant this part of the week he was booked full, and they knew if they didn’t cook something decent that moron would just scrape the grossest take-out down his gullet and go straight to sleep.

“Um, sir?” The cashier finishes bagging their purchases and then awkwardly gestures at Vanderwood’s torso. “You have a little...on your jacket…”

Vanderwood looks down. White hairs. Long white hairs. One hanging on to the bottom hem, another off their sleeve, another stubbornly fixed to their collar. It stands out hideously against the black. How the hell did that get there? And fuck, had they really been that out of it not to notice? They pinch each strand and pull them off one at a time, letting them fall to the floor with a flat look. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The lady hands the bags over with a smile. “Have a nice day!"

 

* * *

 

An hour after that finds Vanderwood relaxing on the couch with a novel Jumin recommended to them, wanting to unwind a little and enjoy their day off. They set it down for just a moment to take a sip of wine and stretch, but when they pick it right back up something clings to their finger. They take a breath. Then another. Then they raise their hand up to their face.

...of course.

They get up from the couch and scrutinize it. Now that they’re looking they see Zen’s hair everywhere. How did this happen in the stretch of only three days? Was this just from Zen falling asleep there on accident last night?

They sigh. Then they get the the vacuum.

 

* * *

 

 

While Vanderwood’s at it they scrub the kitchen counters down, run laundry, and vacuum the floors too. Honestly, they were halfway through before they even realized they were going this far. Old habits die hard, they guess. Spend however many years cleaning after a slobby hacker and this is what Vanderwood gets. Cleaning on autopilot.

They’re trying to wet a washcloth in the bathroom sink when the sink starts filling up. But the stopper isn’t down...Resigned and with a sense of impending doom, Vanderwood pulls the stopper out completely and reaches in to extract a second soggy clump of hair.

“Why.” Vanderwood stares at it with their mouth pressed flat like they can will it out of existence. “Why the _hell_ is he not bald by now.”

They toss it in the trash next to the first clump and stomp out of the bathroom. They have a sudden and intense craving to smoke.

 

* * *

 

Vanderwood’s focused on chopping vegetables when Zen comes home but still identifies his footsteps before the key even scrapes against the lock, so the arms that come around them from behind aren’t even remotely a surprise. They keep chopping with a ferocious precision.

“That’s a little scary, babe.” Zen chuckles drowsily, nosing behind Vanderwood’s ear. “It’s okay, you know, I think they’re dead already.”

Vanderwood snorts, a corner of their mouth turning up against their will.

“I can finish that up if you want.” Zen offers.

“You’re too tired. You’ll chop your fingers off.”

Vanderwood’s done quickly with that anyway, shuffling over with Zen still attached to their back to add it to the sizzling pan on the stove. They’ve long given up on shaking him off when he gets clingy like this, no matter how impractical it can get.

“Smells good.” Zen hums. He presses a kiss into their hair. “Now why were you putting the carrots through cruel and unusual punishment, hm? And why’s it smell like disinfectant? Didn’t we just scrub this place down when we moved in?”

Vanderwood can just feel the teasing smile in Zen’s voice without needing to see it. “If you call me a maid again I’ll gut you.”

“You’re right, I don’t think maids can match up to your standard of cleanliness.”

“I refuse to live in a mess if I have any control over it.” Vanderwood stirs the meat and veggies in the pan, making sure they sear nicely.

Zen blinks. “I didn’t see much of a mess when I left.”

“You _shed_.” Vanderwood says, aggrieved. They stir in the sauce with far more fervor than they should.

“Huh?”

“Your hair gets everywhere.”

“I—”

“ _Everywhere_ ,” Vanderwood repeats.

“Then that just means you have a reminder of me everywhere you go, right~?”

Vanderwood rolls their eyes and turns in Zen’s arms just enough to grab the back of his neck and kiss him deeply for a long, lingering moment. “I don’t need any reminders to remember you.”

Vanderwood turns back around to the stove, smirking quietly to themself in satisfaction as Zen struggles to recover. Dinner’s pretty much done, so they turn the burner off and give it one last stir.

“Not fair, babe.” Zen whines.

“What’s not fair is you clogging every drain in the apartment. Am I going to have to brush you every morning?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t complain...”

Vanderwood reaches back and shoves Zen off of them. “Go set the table, pretty boy.”

Zen chuckles, catching Vanderwood’s hand and laying a kiss on the back of it before doing as instructed. It’s still feels alien to cook for someone else, to hear the clack of plates and silverware and Zen’s jaunty hum, but...it’s nice. Surprisingly easy to fall into. Even with—Vanderwood plucks a silvery hair from their shoulder with a grimace—things like this.

Vanderwood rolls the strand between their fingers. A reminder, huh.

“Ready, babe.” Zen calls.

They let it go and watch it float to the floor. It’s not so bad, they guess. “Coming.”

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up @rixsig_writes on twitter!


End file.
